Old Scars and New Wings
by Wolvenn-Pup
Summary: Some months after the end of Season 1, Robin vanishes on a team mission. A year later, he reapears. But there are some... complications. Like the new members of his 'family', the 14-foot wings, and the fact that he's MUTE! Watch as a scarred Dick Grayson adjusts to the chages and reintigrates himself back into the hero-life.


**Prologue**

Cerulean eyes scanned the horizon, searching for the familiar shapes of his teammates- no, his family. *_There!_* He spotted them. His expression remained stony, but if he hadn't had his mask on, you would've seen his eyes mist at the sight.

It had been over 365 days. Over one year since that set-up mission. One year since he'd seen any of them. One year since he'd been forcibly removed from his family. One year since... since he'd flown. Flown for real.

*_I'll see them again. Soon._* the former hero thought to himself.

Suddenly his attention piqued. There was an explosion near his team's location, and it took all he had not to whip his wings out right then and rush to their aid.

*_Maybe a little peek wouldn't hurt. I'm just making sure nobody was injured..._* he reasoned with himself. Yeah, a little peek to see of anyone needed immediate medical attention. Shouldn't hurt anything. With a nod to confirm his own intentions, he pulled the dark hood of his cloak over his head and vanished into the shadows.

Swiftly and silently, he made his way to the scene. Happy Harbor had a very small slums (if you could even call it that) and the blue-eyed boy was positive that the explosion had come from the eastern portion of it. So that's where he headed.

The buildings were decrepit and the majority were abandoned. Such was the case with the warehouse and two apartments that were currently engulfed in flames. Assessing the damage, he took note of the direction the shrapnel had flown. Towards the street, not the alley behind. The bomb must have been in the front of the building.

There. There's the Atlanian, the Martian, the clone, the archer, and a couple he doesn't recognize. *Where's that yellow-and-red moron? Did he... Oh no.* he heard an all-too-familiar shout of profanity from not too far away.

Ditching any attempts to hide his presence, he whipped out his 14-foot wings and took of in the direction is the sound. He heard multiple startled gasps from below. The team saw.

The raven-haired boy, though, didn't care. In that moment, all rational thought left his brain as he soared to the aid of his friend. *_Oh, please let that idiot be alright. Please!_* Shadowed eyes frantically searched for a sign, any sign, that his comrade was safe.

No such luck for either of them.

On a the edge of a rooftop below, a freckle-faced teen glanced around him; desperation evident in his emerald hues. He may be the 'fastest teen alive', but his speed was not helping him anymore. The young speedster was stuck; his feet caught in a strange, adhesive substance. Try as he might, he could not free himself.

The ebony and grey angel hovered for a moment, debating. *_What's the big deal? Why did he yell like that? He's stuck, so what?! Wait... What's that?_* A shallow gasp escaped him before he was thrown flipping across the sky. Time suddenly slowed. Thoughts raced through his mind at speeds that would almost rival his friend.

*_A second bomb... That's what had him freaked. It was right there! He was in the direct blast-zone! Wait... Where is he?!_*

His ashen wings pivoted in their sockets and flapped desperately as he tried to right himself in the air. Wide, blue eyes scanned the world that seemed to move in slow motion around him.

A bright spot of yellow screamed at him. The light from the fiery explosion only brightening that ridiculously-colored suit of his.

That thin, runners body was flying limply through the air. Limbs trailing behind him like streamers on a kite. Hyper-vigilant eyes saw the blood. The half-closed eyes and the softly gaping mouth... The **ground** rushing up to meet him!

The world sped up again.

Lunging forward, he dove. Arms shoving themselves out of the protective fabric of the cloak in attempt to reach the ginger sooner. To catch him, and stop him from slamming against the asphalt violently.

And he did. Those desperate little arms caught the falling speedster, and powerful wings tilted swiftly to re-aim their flight from down, to up.

Strain soon became evident though. Carrying two bodies, no matter how light the second may be, is a strenuous task. The dark-haired boy is soon forced to land.

Placing his injured friend gently on the pavement, he let his wings fold protectively around them. That always made him feel better. That cocoon of feathers. It made him feel like nothing in the world could get at him. Like he was safe.

The shock of the explosion was beginning to wear off. For both of them. The smaller boy could vaguely hear the crackling of the flames and the wailing of sirens, but they were still distant and didn't seem to effect him. The older of the two was beginning to stir. His eyes losing their glazed look, and his breathing becoming more deep and regular.

Inside the darkness of their soft cocoon: the blue-eyed boy knew his friend, despite their closeness, wouldn't recognize him. So he stayed, protecting the one who once protected him.

He saw the staining crimson on the red-head's shoulder. His suit was torn, as was the skin beneath. He gently pulled the ripped fabric away from the wound. *_Oh my God..._* Despite his light touch, a grimace of pain took over his usually cheery features. *_I'm so sorry..._* Blood began to spill faster, so he completely tore the material and placed it over the bloody mess that was his shoulder. Pressing down, stemming the flow. *_Holy shit... His super-healing better kick in soon..._*

Suddenly remembering his friend's ridiculous metabolism, he reached with his free hand for the older's wrist. Popping open the container (which was lovingly referred to as 'the cabinet') he pulled out a specially-made energy bar. The dazed speedster took it; first nibbling on the edges, then wolfing it down desperately after realizing how hungry he actually was.

"So, uh... who are you?" Finished with his food, the now semi-alert teenager was examining his savior. He received no response aside from a slight recoil from the sudden voice. "Oookay..."

The hooded figure above him reached into his cloak and pulled out a roll of gauze. He helped the red-head to sit up, then began wrapping the injured shoulder in the white. Despite the quick healing provided by the food, it only took a few moments for the fabric to stain. The freckle-faced teen sighed at the appearance of the color, but thanked his mysterious helper.

The shadowed figure nodded, but still refrained from speaking.

Suddenly he tensed, sensing another presence. Presences. There was more than one. And close. Too close. He peeked up out of the mass of grey plumage, and saw that he was surrounded. His once-upon-a-time family stood in a semi-circle all around him. Slowly, thankful of his shadowy hood, he got to his feet. They were all in defensive positions. Ready to take him down should he be deemed a threat. He held his hands out in an 'I surrender' gesture. His wings pulled back in non-threatening posture.

The yellow-clad boy attempted, and failed, to stand. His dark counterpart held out a hand.

"Thanks." He said as he took it and stood. Now that they stood next to eachother, it was clear they they were approximately the same height. The darker being only a half-foot shorter at most. Then he turned to the team, starting to diffuse the situation. "Its okay guys, he- you're a guy right?" A nod. "-he's on our side. See? He fixed up my shoulder!" He smiled wide and pointed to the offending injury. The other teens relaxed at this, acknowledging that they no longer felt the cloaked boy was a threat. Or at least, not a big one.

The Atlanian stepped forward; as trusting as the shadow-boy remembered. He held out a hand that the shadow-boy refuted with a shake of his head. He let his hand fall with a nod of understanding. Slight dejection playing across his features. He continued despite.

"Thank you for helping." he continued, giving a mostly unnecessary round of introductions.

"May I ask who you are?" The young adult asked. The cloaked boy took a step back. No. He couldn't speak. He had no voice. That privilege had been- painfully -taken away.

They all understood, though. Or thought that they did. The others believed he was merely keeping secrets. Playing them. Trying to hide. Not all of them accepted it.

"What've you got to hide?" One if the newbies asked. "It's not as if we're the BAD guys." She gestured at the rest of the team. They all nodded in agreement.

He took another step back. She took a step forward.

*_Please don't start something. Please don't start something. PLEASE don't start something!_* The thought raced through the cloaked boy's mind as a few of the others joined in her halting advance. The Atlanian held out his hands in placating gestures, but they ignored him.

"Yeah, you just_ showed up_ out of nowhere!"

"How do we knew you aren't working with the bad guys?!"

"Just tell us who you are!"

The accusations stung, but he could do naught but back away from the angered group.

Then his wings brushed against the wall.

Cornered. He was cornered. Surrounded on all sides. By a group of hostiles. Hostiles he wouldn't fight against if his life depended on it. And a fight looked to be imminent.

He bristled. His feathers were set on edge, his entire body tensed, and his eyes (though none could see them) were wide with fear.

*_This is not how they will find out. This is not how they will find out. This is NOT how they will find out!_* was the one thing that was evident in his mind. They couldn't discover it this way. It would shatter everything. He wanted to make his comeback as least traumatizing as possible. If they found out this way... Who knows what they'd think...

"Guys, guys, guys! Seriously! It's a sad day when I have to be the mature one!" A red-and-yellow blur said after he rushed in front of the darker fellow. "He just helped me. In fact, he probably just saved my life! There is no need to be a bunch if pushy jerks to the guy who saved me." A few of them stopped at this, seeing the sense in his words. But some didn't.

At this point, the Atlanian leader intervened.

"Friends, he is right. There is no reason to be so hostile." He waited for a moment, hoping that these words would calm his comrades. When they didn't, he went for a different approach. "This is but one person, and should he become a threat- which I'm sure he will not -we can easily overpower him." At this, the remaining few had no choice but to back off.

When he was sure there was no chance of their new ally being jumped, the Atlanian turned to him.

"I'd like to apologize for my companions' behavior. We are all a bit skittish at the moment." He received a nod. "If I may ask; why is it that you will not tell us your name?"

The cloaked boy visibly deflated. His wings drooped. The once-silvery feathers seemed dusty and limp. His shoulders sagged.

There was a moment of silence.

That moment was all the dark figure needed. The ebony spread his enormous grey-shade wings, and took silently to the sky.

And his friends could do nothing but look on in stunned silence.

*_Tomorrow is the day I'll go back._* he told himself. Because tomorrow was the day he would truly become Robin again.


End file.
